


Of Memory and Time

by marille_ancalima



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 09:10:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marille_ancalima/pseuds/marille_ancalima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first fic I'm posting here...about Elenien, Elros' wife, and an OC childhood friend Falmiel. When you go from life in the Edain camps at the end of the War of Wrath to life as Numenorean royalty, things tend to change, in more ways than one might expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Memory and Time

“Do you still think of it?”   
The dark-haired woman closed her eyes, the thin lines setting in around them a reminder of how long it had been, since those days in the camps by the edge of the sea.   
“Enough,” she decided. “I remember when they had us choose if we were to leave.”   
The other woman- Falmiel, now, she had had a name in the language of Beleriand a long time ago, but such was considered improper here- laughed, a soft sound in the wind. Elenien was silent.  
“Had you seen your own face then, you would have laughed as well,” she said. “‘And if you do make such that is your choice, then hail, Elenien, Queen of Númenórë!’” She attempted to put on the piercing layered voice of that herald, still strangely clear in her memory, and Elenien shook her head.   
“It was not so easy that day,” she admitted. “I felt as though I had wandered into some Elvish legend.” She paused a while, remembering the hours that had passed as moments, the sudden proclamations announced with a ceremony that none among them had ever seen. “In all truth, it was still difficult to believe we had won- or what we had won, on that matter.”  
They were silent, for a moment. Falmiel knew- they had lived the same life back then, fathers and mothers always gone, home a different camp every few years, caught up in the last days of a war they never really understood. It was not painful to remember, nor was it truly easy- confusing and rather unnecessary, all who were there seemed to decide, and perhaps that was the closest they could come to a description.  
That day, Falmiel thought, was not unlike some back then. The wind off the sea picked up; the air growing cooler as evening fell. They had often spent such afternoons together, in the rare moments there was no work to be done. They could talk about things that were out of place in the confines of the day- today the Elves were here, have you tried cooking for their expectations with what we have? or I have a sword now- shouldn't have to use it, but if it comes to it I can.  
But the two now looked out over the gardens and glittering fountains towards the gold-domed palace, and the city of white marble that fell away below them, and such times were far away.  
“If you would describe it as Elvish legend, then I do not think we have yet left,” Falmiel said. “Even this seems unreal, on occasion. To think we were here before it.”   
Elenien smiled. “That I might agree with.” She studied the line of the buildings, climbing the hills towards the Meneltarma. “I wish they had left more of the trees.”   
The sun was setting, and pale-glowing lamps already burnt in the palace windows. An Elvish harp played, somewhere, the muffled sounds of conversation floating with it on the wind.   
“Should you not be at dinner?” Falmiel asked, her voice soft. Neither truly wanted to leave, and both knew it.   
“Dinner,” Elenien repeated, and Falmiel knew she hadn't thought of it. “Perhaps, if they did not play at turning it into some great banquet from over the sea.”   
The women laughed, both knowing the still-odd spectacle of court dinners well.  
“I could go to the kitchens and find something, if you would eat,” she suggested. “There should be more than enough.” After such a long time, it was still should- though she did not really expect there to be too little- and it still slipped both their minds that the Queen of Númenor had no reason to be in the kitchens.   
Instead Elenien left, and returned minutes later with a woven basket covered in patterned cloth. “Tomorrow morning’s breakfast-cakes,” she said. “I did not wish to disturb tonight’s presentation.” She spread the cloth out on the soft grass and sat there, placing the cakes on a plate. Falmiel joined her, spreading her skirt out to keep the fine fabric from wrinkling.   
“This was much easier when it was not so proper,” she said. “A banquet from over the sea, you say- everything here tries to be as though it came from there.” She looked down at the delicate cloth of her dress, at the white-shining city and the bright tree around them, pausing for a moment before she spoke again: “Is it true you can see it from here?”   
Elenien knew what she referred to and nodded, slowly. “From the peak of the Meneltarma, on a clear day- yes.” She broke the cake in half, and glanced towards the mountain in the distance. Falmiel’s eyes widened.  
“It is not such a great sight,” she said. “A glimmer in the distance, as the city is from off of the coast. Many take it to mean too much. They think- we've become closer to them, in a way, though none know how close.” Elenien spoke carefully, and Falmiel knew she thought of the choice.  
“If we are not so now-“ she did not say the word outright, but Elenien knew-“then with years lived like this, in sight of the West- would the people of Númenor ever be?”   
Elenien thought for a moment, in careful silence. “You do not have to speak so carefully,” she said, her mind far away, whether along the old coasts of Beleriand or the shores of the West Falmiel couldn't tell, and she sighed.  
“I do not know, in truth,” she said, “though I think not. Desiring what we may, Falmiel, we are Edain.” She paused again. “I wonder often if we were meant for a land that makes us forget that.”   
Falmiel started as though to speak, but closed her mouth in agreement and took a cake from the basket instead; and the two ate together in silence until the sun had set and the stars that shone the same over Beleriand lost and the West unattainable had risen above them.


End file.
